


As the Tower Crumbles

by ForestSeaWitch



Series: The Bard and the Elf [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22661029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForestSeaWitch/pseuds/ForestSeaWitch
Summary: After the djinn's vanquishing, and discovering Geralt and Yennefer comforting one another, Jaskier and Chireadan find what things they have in common.
Relationships: Chireadan/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Bard and the Elf [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642075
Comments: 10
Kudos: 127
Collections: Jaskier or Geralt/others (with or w/out eachother)





	As the Tower Crumbles

**Author's Note:**

> Turns out I've been inspired by these two, and will be adding chapters to their relationship down the line.

**“They’re alive!”** he considered it nothing short of a miracle, staring in the window as the two of them…wait, what were they doing? **“They’re _really_ alive, whoo!”** Wait, was Geralt _actually_ going to put that…apparently he was. Yes. And what was _she_ doing, were bodies even meant to twist like that?

Jaskier stumbled, being pulled along by a surprisingly strong grip. Was the elf really _that_ in love with the witch, or did he simply not like to watch? **“If you’ll just give me a moment or five, I-“** Chireadan grabbed his arm again to drag him further away from the window. Jaskier could _hear_ Geralt grunting in there, and he’d never seen the Witcher do such things before! Of course he was interested. And highly aroused. One followed the other, he supposed, but what else was he meant to do other than observe and wait for the pair to finish? 

**“What’s got your knickers all tousled? Ohhhh hohoho don’t tell me Geralt’s gotten to her before you ever could!”** The guilty side glance he received was plenty confirmation of that. A man in love with a woman, who had never even bedded her? And he thought that witches were even more devious than himself, which really was saying something. Jaskier looked back at the ruins, and held his hands up in defeat when he noticed Chireadan watching him with a wary look.

**“I’m not going back, so you can just…go about doing your elvish healing or whatever it is you’re here to do.”** Was he really that worried about Jaskier watching that performance in there? Good gods, the man had no right to be as heartbroken as he looked. Jaskier frowned, sitting upon a rock and realizing that he, too, had worn that look all too recently. Except _he_ actually did fuck his most recent love. Jaskier sighed and looked for Geralt’s mare, knowing his lute would be nearby. 

**“You humans don’t understand deep love,”** Chireadan decided to find his voice again.

**“Oh? And how would you know that? Have you gone and asked every human what love is?”**

The elf frowned at him, his fingers idly fiddling at a satchel hanging from his waist. Jaskier rolled his eyes, and opted to go for the flagon of wine rather than his lute. He was inexplicably parched. 

**“Your throat.”**

Jaskier took a long draw of the wine, but apparently the elf was still short of words. 

**“My throat, yes. It’s healed now, quite well thank you very much. I wonder, did you know that she wanted the djinn? Or was that all a rather incredible coincidence, that you delivered to your love the one thing she desired?”**

Again, guilt on the elf. He may have been well-trained in the healing arts, but when it came to expressing himself, he was rather shite. Jaskier took another drink of the wine, and offered the flagon to Chireadan. Pointy was taken aback, at first, and then resigned himself to a drink, sitting on the ground by Jaskier.

**“I know how you feel,”** Jaskier offered, in a softer tone. **“I, too, have lost my love, recently. Again. She does this a lot, you know. The Countess…what a beauty she is, and how cold her heart can be!”**

Chireadan handed the flagon back, looking confused but somehow relieved. Perhaps he wasn’t accustomed to humans sharing deeper feelings with him. But Jaskier had traveled with a Witcher for years, and dealt with his fair share of oddities in his time! He’d come to respect the elves as people, not so different from humans, after all.

**“This is not the first time my heart has broken for her, either,”** the elf confided, looking rather miserable. The bard could have sworn he was mere seconds from crying, and perversely wondered if an elf could cry the same way a human did. Chireadan hung his head for a moment with a frown, before getting up to his knees, reaching for Jaskier.

**“Ah, excuse me-“** Jaskier pulled back from him, frowning, **“What the hell are you doing?”**

**“Checking your throat.”**

**“Oh.”**

Apparently the work of a healer was all that could distract this elf from drowning in his feelings in this moment. Jaskier reluctantly looked up, his mind wandering to Geralt and the purple-eyed witch. It wasn’t that she was ugly, but rather that she was terrifying. And to be perfectly fair, Geralt was a handsome slab of Witcher meat himself. One that Jaskier had cleaned and tended to multiple times in their past! Rather respectfully, too, if he said so himself. Which he did. So yes.

The elf suddenly cleared his own throat, catching Jaskier’s attention. He had an odd look to him, like he had been caught by his parents doing something naughty but was also trying to play it off as innocent. 

**“You are healed. The spell worked. Try not to let djinn attack you like this in the future.”**

**“Yeah I’ll be sure to do that,”** Jaskier’s brow furrowed as he looked the elf over. **“Are you alright?”**

He received no answer, but caught the brief glance downward. Jaskier followed the gaze, laughing to himself because _no wonder_ the elf looked so awkward. 

**“ _That_ is how I’ve kept so many muses over the years,”** he proudly declared. The bard couldn’t have been too scared of her, then, if the thought of Geralt plowing her fields gave him such rise. **“And pardon you, _sir_ , but I am a recently sickly patient in his undergarments. Some bedside manner you’ve got.”**

**“I did not mean to-”**

Jaskier cut him off with a hand wave. **“That was a joke. You know about joking, don’t you?”** He really hoped he didn’t have to explain that _that_ was a joke, too.

Chireadan seemed to get it, though, and smiled softly, though he still looked a bit down. 

**“Now look, there’s only room for one tragic heartbreak, and I had mine first. So you’re going to just have to…cheer up. Besides, I’m much more fitting to be dramatically woeful, wouldn’t you agree?”**

Maybe he should have gotten his lute, but Jaskier decided to, instead, take another few sips of wine and hand it back to the elf. Well…he was rather incredibly horny at this time, and Chireadan needed distracting. He honestly wasn’t all that terrible to look at, either. Out of the ordinary, yes, but Jaskier had grown to like those who were unconventional and…odd, he supposed. Besides, he owed Chireadan some level of gratitude for making sure he didn’t die. 

**“When was the last time someone pulled on _your_ horn?”**

The elf looked scandalized, and was that a blush on his cheek? It was! Jaskier sat up, grinning at him. 

**“That is not…I do not throw myself at people. An elf-”**

**“Yeah yeah, feels love differently and deeper than a human does. As you’ve already said. Love isn’t a requirement to feeling good, you know.”**

Chireadan was refusing to look him in the eye, but Jaskier was like a dog with a bone, quite literally, when it came to his sexual endeavours. One would have thought he’d have learned better by now, with how much trouble his cock seemed to get him into. His grin grew even wider when the elf finally met his eye, and once again struggled to find his words.

**“Look, all I can tell you is that the easiest way to get over one’s heartbreak is to have a roll with someone else. You’re not exactly the type to inspire great song and poetry, and I doubt I’m the kind you tend to go for, either.”**

**“You’re right,”** Chireadan reluctantly answered, and as of yet he made no move to get away from the bard’s intrusive presence. **“I’ve never known a man before.”**

**“Well I have. So…”**

The elf was still waffling and taking so long to make a decision about anything, and Jaskier was quickly growing bored of it. Was he really the only person who could understand that a fun tumble need not involve love and heartache and all the rest? Honestly.

**“Right, well, I shall be strumming my own lute, if you are unable to-”**

Chireadan caught him off guard by grabbing his undershirt and planting a hurried kiss on him. Jaskier hummed in pleasant surprise, and grabbed the elf’s waist, holding him there as he deepened the kiss. 

**“See? Doesn’t that feel better?”** Jaskier laughed, because Chireadan had yet to open his eyes again. He took the opportunity to start attempting to remove some of the elf’s armor, but it was more complex than he had initially thought. 

The healer was spooked, but only because he likely hadn’t been expecting Jaskier to take it there just yet. Which was fine, of course, given that he didn’t know Jaskier. That was strange, now that he thought about it. Someone who didn’t know his courtly reputation, and still wanted to sleep with him. Interesting.

**“Here, I…it is like so…”** Well _now_ they were getting somewhere, weren’t they? Jaskier watched the elf uncover secretive compartments and catches, which made the armor quite easy to remove in a hurry, it seemed. Easy for the one wearing it, and not those who might be trying to assault the wearer. 

**“Ah yes. But that is not where the best part lives, is it?”** Jaskier reached for Chireadan’s trousers, finding that he was met with no resistance. Curious, he pressed his palm flat against the elf’s groin, feeling for any excitement that might be there. He was not stiff as weather-beaten rock quite yet, but he was getting there. And with a hand upon it, that cock was growing more impressive by the second.

**“There he is,”** Jaskier was grinning like a fiend. It was a shame Geralt never got to see this side to him, because he reckoned he’d give the Witcher a run for his money in the bedroom. In fact, he knew he would. **“He can’t be too shy, can he? I think he ought to come out to play.”**

A speechless elf was better than the alternative, and with his eyes half open, mouth agape, Chireadan nodded. That was all the invitation Jaskier needed to figure out how to undo those pants, which was so frustrating that he might as well have just told the elf to go have a wank himself and cry over Yennefer alone. But thankfully he figured it out, and pulled that surprisingly impressive cock out of Chireadan’s trousers. 

**“Shall I-”** Jaskier slapped the hand that began to reach for him. 

**“No you shall not. I could not give less of a shite if you want to do anything to me right now.”** Jaskier was aroused and needed to get anyone else off right now. It was his thing. He didn’t know why, exactly, but he never really questioned it. 

Jaskier shoved the elf onto his back, and slipped the whole cock into his mouth, feeling it slip into his throat. Chireadan moaned weakly, his slender fingers gripping the bard’s hair. He didn’t mind the grasp, so long as the elf didn’t attempt to take control of him. That would be outrageously unacceptable. Jaskier shuffled those pants down a little more, sliding his lips over the elf’s balls and jerking on the shaft, particularly enjoying the way Chireadan’s breath hitched when he pulled over the tip of his cock.

The bard got up to his knees, pulling back Chireadan’s foreskin and hammering on the end, making the elf squirm and whimper beneath him. Now had an evil witch ever made him feel like this? Jaskier seriously doubted it. And if he thought otherwise, it was probably a magic trick. He’d looked in that window, and it was all Geralt’s work happening in there. Thinking of that only aroused him further, gods damn him.

**“Bard…I am…”** Jaskier noted the balls bunching up against Chireadan’s body, and quickly put his mouth at the tip, just in time to welcome a healthy mouthful of cum. Followed quickly by three or four more. Gods, it _had_ been a while for the poor chap, hadn’t it? At least elf seed didn’t taste terribly, though perhaps that was due to their typical diets. Or had Jaskier simply been missing out on delights he didn’t know were right before him, waiting to be discovered?

**“Please…Jaskier that is…it is too much…”** He rolled his eyes and popped the cock out of his mouth, sitting back on his knees. Looking down at the elf, who merely stared up at the sky and seemed incapable of complex thought in the moment. Who would have thought that an elf would be so sensitive in those bits?

**“Well I’m glad _you’re_ feeling better,”** he stood, looking at the erection that still tented his own pants, unattended and aching. And by the state of Chireadan, he was going to have to tend to his own tension. _Again._ He really had to stop giving pleasure to others, before he had his own fill. 

Jaskier turned to find Roach and fetch his bed roll, because gods only knew how long it might be before Geralt finished with the witch in there. As he neared the mare, she suddenly spooked, and Jaskier learned why half a second later, as the elf’s arms tightly wrapped around him. The breath was knocked from him, and he nearly toppled over from the force. Likely he would have, had Chireadan not held him up so strongly. 

**“Jaskier…perhaps you have not have such great lovers either, if you expected to find your end alone.”** Gentle kisses peppered the side and back of his neck, as the elf unfastened his trousers. Which were far less complicated, thank you very much. Jaskier had always believed that clothes should be easy to remove, as well as look fashionable and modern. Chireadan made quick work of them, shoving Jaskier’s pants to the ground, and wrapping one hand around his cock without hesitation.

**“For a man who claims to have-”**

**“An elf.”**

**“For an elf who claims to have never known a man before…”** Jaskier moaned, his head tipping back against Chireadan. **“You certainly know how to…handle one.”**

That earned him a soft chuckle, and it seemed Chireadan was intent on making it last for him, with how he changed speed and intensity. Still, Jaskier found a certain erotic nature to this, and found himself aroused in a way he had not felt in a while. Even with the Countess, though he would hardly admit to that out loud. 

**“Just because I have known no other man, it does not mean I do not know myself. It is not so different.”** Chireadan seemed to have an affection for human ears, with how he licked and bit Jaskier’s. **“Are you ready?”** he whispered into the bard’s ear, sending a warm shiver down Jaskier’s spine. 

It didn’t matter if Jaskier was ready or not, the elf tightened his fist over his cock, hammering intently and without relief just over the tip. **“Oh lord’s bollocks,”** he roughly cursed, grabbing for anything he could reach on Chireadan. Jaskier came with a loud wail, spooking Roach into rearing with a loud whinny. Gods, was he that parched that swallowing one helping of seed could inspire his own so easily? 

Jaskier knocked the hand away from him, and turned heel, grabbing Chireadan by the doublet, startling the elf. He shoved the healer against the nearest tree, kissing him roughly. The two continued to pull and suck on one another for the next hour, and who knew that elves could be so _vigorous_ by the way, before collapsing in exhaustion. It had certainly helped his own broken heart, and Jaskier reckoned that Chireadan likely felt his own relief from that ailment, too.

 **“Well that’s a first for me,”** Jaskier yawned, stuffing the bedroll under his head. He was tired, and Geralt wouldn’t just leave him now, not after saving his life. The Witcher was stuck with him again, and he had better get used to the idea. 

**“What is?”** Chireadan sounded curious, though he did not look nearly as tired as Jaskier felt. Fucking elves.

**“I’ve never had an elf before. Man or woman. That’s the first. I suppose we gave each other that gift today.”** Jaskier wasn’t going to ask how he was feeling, regarding the witch, lest it sour Chireadan’s cheerful mood. **“And I dare say, if I’m ever in your neck of the woods again, gods forbid, I shall certainly be looking for some, ah… _healing_.”**

Chireadan laughed, leaning back against a tree and closing his eyes, as though to rest. **“You have opened my eyes to such pleasures,”** and at that, Jaskier made a dismissive noise. While that was certainly what he did, for many, he would never state it in such a way. That was an amateur’s attempt at poetry, though it was sweet of the elf to make the attempt. Sweet, but juvenile. 

**“I make no jest,”** the elf protested, **“And perhaps you are something of a healer yourself.”**

Now that was a proper compliment. Jaskier smirked, snuggling into his bedroll and yawning. **“Yes, well…it has been said.”** Not in so many words. But still. **“You needn’t sleep against the tree, unless that is what does it for you elves. I am going to get some much-needed rest. And…perhaps assess your horn again when I wake.”**

It did not take long for Jaskier to fall asleep, and he would find himself wondering if it had been a fever dream, inspired by the magic that had healed him. There was no trace of Chireadan, once he awoke, but that was just as well. The elf was hardly a muse, and more of a convenient outlet to make use of in the moment. Perhaps their paths would cross again, one day.


End file.
